


A forgotten bag of chips

by obviouslyelementary



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, Post TFP, Shaken Mycroft, Sherlock Being a Good Brother, Sweet Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obviouslyelementary/pseuds/obviouslyelementary
Summary: “I really hoped Sherlock would be wrong, but he is right. I didn’t want us to get to this” he said, dramatically, and slowly closed the door without turning around, ignoring Mycroft’s raised eyebrow. After another sigh, he walked all the way to Mycroft’s desk, sat on the chair and took out from his suit a bag of chips. “You need chips, Mycroft. And you need them now”





	

The request had, honestly, let him curious. It wasn’t every day when someone heard, from Sherlock Holmes’ own mouth, the words: ‘Make sure he’s looked after’ and ‘Mycroft’ in the same phrase. So, because of the importance of the situation, Greg decided to take the matter in his own hands.

It did not take long to arrive at the mansion Mycroft called ‘home’, and slowly unlocking the door with the key Sherlock had given him he made his way inside. Careful not to make much noise, he walked through the gardens outside and got inside the house, looking around at the living room. After a moment or two, Greg allowed himself to go where he supposed Mycroft would be.

And for some reason, he was right.

“If my brother told you to come and take care of me, I can assure you Inspector, that I am fine” Mycroft said from his working table, without even looking up from the paper he was reading. Greg guessed he should be used to it by now, but he wasn’t. Not entirely. Either way, his surprise did not stop him from seeing the way Mycroft’s hand shook as he held the pen up in the air, or how he was staring so attentively to the paper in front of him without reading it at all, his eyes focused on a single line.

He wasn’t very smart, but he was a Detective Inspector anyway.

“Mr. Holmes. You know there is absolutely no problem with feeling shaken after going through all of that craziness” he said, firmly, stepping inside the office without being asked. He saw Mycroft tensing on the chair before slowly looking up. His eyes were like fire, but they were hiding something.

“I am not shaken, Detective Inspector. I am completely, utterly fine. However, I still have several paperwork to finish, so if you please...” he said, nodding to the door but never taking his eyes off Greg’s. He sighed softly, resigned, and then shook his head. 

“I really hoped Sherlock would be wrong, but he is right. I didn’t want us to get to this” he said, dramatically, and slowly closed the door without turning around, ignoring Mycroft’s raised eyebrow. After another sigh, he walked all the way to Mycroft’s desk, sat on the chair and took out from his suit a bag of chips. “You need chips, Mycroft. And you need them now”

“Oh please” Mycroft chuckled loudly, letting go from the pen and staring at Greg in incredulous eyes. “This is beyond ridiculous. I do not need any chips. These have more meaning than a simple game, Detective Inspector, and I do not have the patience to explain it” he said firmly, reaching out to grab the bag, but before he could Greg picked them up and stared at Mycroft, eyes serious.

“I know what these mean. Sherlock told me after the second night I found him high in the streets and brought him to the delegacy” he said, slowly opening the bag and handing it to Mycroft. “I know. And both of us think you need it. Take the chips” he pressured, but even he knew that if Mycroft didn’t accept them now, he wouldn’t insist anymore. That was not how the older Holmes worked.

And yet, Greg watched as Mycroft looked down at the opened bag, seeming to analyze every single decision in his entire life. Greg did not move his hand for minutes as he waited for Mycroft to make his decision, but he could see that the man in front of him was slowly melting, his walls breaking. And then, slowly, Mycroft let out a loud sigh and raised his hand, reaching for the bag and grabbing a chip that he quickly put inside his mouth and chewed.

He looked defeated, weak, vulnerable and ashamed, and while Greg was content he was opening himself up to him, the fact that he had actually reached for the chip and ate it was terrible. He hoped Mycroft was good enough at least to lie to him. After all, he and the politician had never had a very deep relationship, mainly meeting up because of Sherlock’s bad habits of smoking and solving cases.

If he was willing to let Greg to know about his state, he was really bad or really desperate for help.

“Happy, Gregory?” Mycroft said, quietly, after he had swallowed the chip, staring down at his table. “Now you are free to leave me alone. Tell Sherlock he does not need to worry about his big brother” he said, and then reached for the pen. As he did, Greg acted on instinct and put his hand over Mycroft’s, making the man look up at him confused and angry and ashamed. “What now? Are you going to show empathy for my problem by telling me formed phrases until you are tired of trying to get an emotional response from me and then you will stand up and call Sherlock to tell him that his brother is simply impossible to take care of because even though he openly admitted to be having dark thoughts he still won’t try to open up and communicate?” he asked, bitterly, and Greg took a few seconds before being able to answer.

“Don’t kill yourself” he said, dumbly, but at least that made Mycroft let out a, unimpressed and amused chuckle. “I-I mean... I know you won’t. For several reasons. Most reasons I agree with. Like your work and Sherlock. He wouldn’t handle your death, no matter what he says or does. And also your sister, even though now she seems... Alright. And your parents. And the country, obviously. And the rest of the world” he continued, staring at Mycroft as the older Holmes watched him with an annoyed expression, though his eyes showed something else. “But that’s not enough”

“Not killing myself and continuing working and helping my family is not enough? How so?” he asked, curious, raising his eyebrow once again. Greg then realized he was still with his hand over Mycroft’s, but he wouldn’t move it now.

“You have done that for the past three decades, Mycroft” Greg said, frowning deeply. “When was the last time you did something for your own pleasure? Something that would not benefit anyone, just entertain you? When was the last time you got out, travelled without needing to worry about work, or just ate in a fancy restaurant without anyone asking anything from you? When was the last time you lived, Mycroft?” he asked, squeezing the man’s hand and staring firmly into his eyes. “When was the last time you were truly happy?”

For a second, Greg thought Mycroft was going to shot him in the face by how angry he seemed, but then he sighed deeply and pulled his hand away from Greg’s grasp, reaching up to rub his temples.

“I do not know what you are implying, Detective Inspector, but you need to know that I have been happy and I have enjoyed myself in every free hour I had. Now, if you excuse me, your help is giving me headaches” he said, waving to the door of the office. Greg stared at him, for a while, and then shook his head.

“Not buying it” he said firmly, and before Mycroft could start to complain, he placed his finger against the man’s mouth. “No no no. You shut up, Mycroft Holmes” he said, before standing up. “This time, I do the talking, and you listen. No matter what you say, you’re just like your brother, and for people that say that ‘sentiment is a weakness of the losing side’ or whatever, it seems like you two enjoy being on the losing side. So I will stay here and wait until you are willing to either talk to me about what happened, or get up and come with me for dinner”

“Dinner?” Mycroft asked, raising his eyebrows, honestly surprised, and Greg nodded, face determined. “You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous”

“It is not. You can even call it a date, if you wish” he added, staring straight to Mycroft, no hesitation or doubt in his mind. “Or this could be only a meeting between friends. You decide. Up to you”

For the first time on his life, Gregory Lestrade could proudly say that he had left the owner of the British Nation speechless, but that did not compare to the fact that he had left Mycroft Holmes speechless. The man couldn’t even move for a while, just holding Greg’s gaze as he probably deduced if he was being honest or not. After a few minutes quiet, the realization fell and Mycroft’s eyes widened.

“You... Wait. You really are asking me on a date” he said, slowly, clearly not realizing he was saying that out loud. Greg nodded and Mycroft broke their eye contact, looking down at his desk. He seemed extremely shaken, worst than when he had eaten the chip.

“Yes I did, if you want it to be a date” he said, slowly moving closer to the desk and lifting Mycroft’s face by his chin. When their eyes locked again, Greg smiled. “I promise I am not taking advantage of your state. I know you’re shaken but maybe a date would be good for you. Just you and me and wine and a fancy restaurant. Nothing attached. Work is forbidden talk. Family is forbidden talk. Deal?”

“Deal” he said slowly, before he stood up, fixing his suit and cleaning his throat. “Shall I suggest a restaurant of my liking? We can even walk there” he said, and Greg smiled widely, nodding quickly and raising his arms to show Mycroft the door.

“Lead the way, Mr. Holmes” he said, and followed Mycroft out of the house contently, knowing that at least for that night Mycroft would be out harm’s way.

 

Sherlock couldn’t be happier when he found the forgotten bag of chips over his brother’s work desk.


End file.
